


only the young who play truth or dare

by tawnyPort



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Age Difference, Conventions, Humanstuck, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-04 14:16:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawnyPort/pseuds/tawnyPort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were almost certain he was waiting for a chance to gloat and you were satisfied with never giving him one, even if it meant occasionally having to leave his message unanswered for a day while you got around to putting his strategy into action. You'd do a lot of things but you weren’t going to lie.</p><p>About your progress in a video game.</p><p>To a stranger on the internet.</p><p>You have more dignity than that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [papabrostrider (buffdaddy)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffdaddy/gifts).



> Once upon a time there was [a prompt](http://papabrotiger.tumblr.com/post/51210296544) and it was good: "THEYVE BEEN ONLINE FRIENDS FOR SO LONG AND THEY FINALLY MEET AT A CONVENTION AND GOOD LORD THIS IS AWKWARD I DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE YOUNGER/OLDER THAN ME UHHHHHHHHH thEN THERES A WHOLE WEEKEND OF TENSION THICK ENOUGH TO CUT WITH A CHAINSAW OH BOY
> 
> A FUCKING CHAINSAW"
> 
> For Aze/papabrostrider!

You first encountered user twinArmageddons on the boss help subforum of a gaming website that you started going to when you were on deployment and nobody on the entire ship was interested in helping you figure out how to beat Seymour in his Flux form. You were on the verge of throwing the PS2 into the ocean and just saying fuck the whole thing but ultimately you refused to be beaten by a bunch of pixels who loved to remind you that your hope ended with him.

The only change to your opinion was that you wanted to heave your computer into the ocean instead when twinArmageddons mocked you for not being able to figure out a fight he called, “chiild2 play,” then gave you a strategy that worked on the second attempt (and the only reason it didn't the first time was because you didn't want to blow any items on the fight but the Silence Grenades really did make all the difference). Of course, you would've gotten your ass kicked if you'd thrown the computer overboard but you figured the Navy could spare the expense. You still didn't do it, though, because even though he made you feel like you were pretty much the stupidest person to ever handle a game controller, he did help you, which was more than a lot of other people seemed to be willing to do.

You sent him a PM through the forum to thank him and that was pretty much the end of that.

You still saw him around the forum and laughed when he turned his barbs against other users, but whenever you were stuck on something—which was often, even after you left the Navy and headed back to civilian life, you were in school and didn't have hours to spend just thrashing against a console uselessly, didn't this guy have a life?—you'd send him another private message and demand he tell you how to get past the fight. You never made any pretense of being polite about it. The fact was, he was clearly a smart person even if he was a complete asshole and you had kind of a reputation on the forum for telling people to fuck off when they made you mad which made it difficult to get assistance from any of them, ungrateful shits. You served your country and you couldn't even get them to tell you how to get past the second chapter of Mirror's Edge (sadistic goddamn game devs; he called you a douchebag for even playing it but he also knew every corner, go figure) or how to defeat Comstock's Airship.

But he did, every time. You're pretty sure he just liked being able to show off how much smarter he was than you but hey, you didn't have to actually tell anybody how you got those trophies unlocked so fuck him and his mutant video game abilities. Forum user twinArmageddons was your secret weapon and you liked it that way.

Then in the last couple of years the mutation started to spread. He initiated it, but now instead of just using the forum's PM system, you talk on Skype or Xbox Live. Getting him to give you his real name was inappropriately difficult and even then you weren't sure a name like Sollux wasn't some kind of in-joke but it beat calling him by his forum username. It was transcendentally humiliating at first because you've spent the majority of your gaming life playing alone—Fef played some of the Final Fantasy stuff with you but in general it wasn't her thing—but it was also cathartic to be able to scream back at him once in a while.

Sol never raised his voice but he didn't have to. All it took was three seconds of his sniggering after a particularly deft headshot and you were chucking your controller across the room and raging like a twelve-year-old. That only made him laugh harder but after a couple of months you found that these sessions of flipping out were making it easier for you to manage in the outside world.

And of course that didn't mean you stopped using the PMs when you found it more convenient. There was never going to be an easier way to ask for help, after all. Even the tenor there was different, though. After you sent him messages demanding aid and he replied with completely inaccurate assessments of your sexual capacity and completely accurate strats, he'd send a message two or three days later asking if it worked or if you were too stupid to be able to figure it out even with his help. You were almost certain he was waiting for a chance to gloat and you were satisfied with never giving him one, even if it meant occasionally having to leave his message unanswered for a day while you got around to putting his strategy into action. You'll do a lot of things but you weren’t going to lie.

About your progress in a video game.

To a stranger on the internet.

You have more dignity than that.

Still, you've had what your therapist has called, “difficulties,” adjusting to civilian life again, and being able to talk to this same person for almost a decade... you wouldn't call it a touchstone or anything as sappy as that but the idea that maybe you're actually friends and not just a couple people using each other for information and bizarre emotional outlets is kind of comforting.

That being said, you refuse to think about it too hard because you do have friends in real life so obviously you don't need to resort to having internet friends too. Feferi's amazing, even if you didn't work out as a couple. She just says she's more equipped to handle your temper as friends and you have to admit that's true. You fell for her across the counter at the pharmacy probably the third time you picked up your prescriptions. Or possibly the third or fourth time you called the pharmacy to ask questions. She saw right through it, of course, she's smart as well as gorgeous, but that's also why it was doomed from the start. The time you spent living together was simultaneously the lightest and darkest period since you came home and it's easier for both of you to keep an even keel with the distance there.

Equius is a good guy, too, even if you find it hard to believe sometimes that you became close enough to go for a couple of beers with the guy one apartment down who fixes your car. He's extremely effusive in his admiration for your service and you bask in it at first. It's nice to meet somebody who appreciates what you were willing to do for your country. Eventually, however, it gets to be a little much. You ask him why he never served himself and he mutters something about failing the psych evaluation and that's the last time either of you ever talk about it.

Unfortunately he has no interest in video games or military history or comics and you have no interest in mechanics or robotics or body building so you don't talk as much as you used to now but he's still good for a Friday night bar crawl. He's a great designated driver and he's poured you into your apartment more times than you care to admit. You're just not sure you'd consider him a friend so much as a useful acquaintance. Your shrink tends to get caught up in the verb, “use,” in that sentence, but she doesn't really understand the dynamic. She can't, otherwise she'd see it's not like that.

Still, Dr. Maryam is on you pretty hard about expanding your social circle by getting to know people who do actually share your interests and the two of you spend a couple of sessions debating the pros and cons of a convention trip. You’re not sold on the idea of masses of sweaty nerds with weak wrists and bad haircuts fighting each other for exclusive bobbleheads but you can see the appeal of meeting people who will debate Michael Keaton versus Christian Bale with you over a pint. If you’re willing to go to a con then surely other sane adults with good hygiene and regular access to a mirror and fresh air must do it sometimes too.

You don't travel much these days so you're not interested in going all the way to San Diego or even to New York City even though the latter really isn't that far, but Toronto is a good middle ground. Far enough that you can't give up and retreat home in the middle of it while still being close enough that it's still in the same time zone and they mostly speak the same language. It’s even in another country, though you seem to give this fact more weight than your shrink does but whatever, she’s not the one going. The con there is a huge affair but Kanaya convinces you that the bigger population means even the vanishing percent of attendees you’re willing to speak to again after the long weekend will have more people in it than at a smaller con.

Arranging the time off is no big deal. Neither is scraping together the money to ensure the weekend won’t be spent eating hotel mints and drinking tap water. Fef is over the moon about you finally going away somewhere and strongarms her way into the planning process despite your insistence that it’s kind of important for you to do this yourself. She travels all the time and the days before you leave see at least a dozen lists in your inbox featuring restaurants, attractions, even night clubs and shopping. You explained to her as patiently as you could that you didn’t expect to have a ton of free time once the con started, but she just smirked and said she wanted to make sure you had options for spending time with your friend once you got there.

You wish you’d never told her Sol was going to be there. Part of you wishes you didn’t know it yourself. Then it might be easier to just throw a few days’ worth of clothes in a bag and get on with your life instead of wondering whether you’d look better being legitimately casual, putting some effort into looking casual with appropriate accessories, or going all out and making sure you looked your best since, after all, there were going to be tens of thousands of people there. 

And this internet guy. He’s going to be there too.

There had been a thread about the upcoming con season and you’d dropped a post in about your plans to go to Toronto. You knew he was Canadian but you weren’t going to be that guy who assumed the massive size of Canada was an elaborate modern fiction. He didn’t reply to the thread or even bring it up and you figured he probably lived somewhere out West--if nothing else it’d account for his bizarre hours of operation--and that was that.

At least, until ten days before you were supposed to leave. You were chatting on Skype, muttering darkly into the mic about the contents of Fef’s latest top ten list--you were not stopping on the way to Toronto to go to a butterfly conservatory in the middle of March, what the hell--and he’d casually let it slip that he was planning on attending the same con. 

“What the fuck, Sol, were you goin to say anything or just leave me swinging here?”

“I didn’t realize I was obligated to tell you my every future plan.” His tone wasn’t as biting as it got when he meant for his sarcasm to strike home. If anything, he sounded a little tentative, but that just meant he knew you’d be pissed. 

“Of course not but this is information it would’ve been nice to have a little sooner. You could’ve posted it in the thread or something.”

“Yeah, after the number of those guys’ accounts I’ve taken over in the last few years, I’m not about to advertise my meatsuit whereabouts on the internet, ED.”

“You did it to me so what’re you tellin me for?”

“I dunno.” The pause that stretches while you wait to see if he’s going to explain any further almost destroys your nerve but you’re not going to pass up the chance to know at least one person who will be physically present at this thing.

“Well if you’re not goin to spend the entire time in your hotel room playing Pokemon and quaking in fear of the other nerds you’ve trolled, we should grab lunch or something. Whatever doesn’t conflict with your tightly scheduled plans of cowering and glancing over your shoulder.”

He sniggered into the mic. “Wow, what a flattering invitation. Hold on while I message all my friends and tell them I’m ditching them to make plans with one of the very assholes I’m hoping to avoid.”

That stings a little. “Sure, that’ll be what, ten, twelves seconds to get the one message out or what?”

“We’re not all pathetic shut-ins, ED. I do have actual friends and plans for this con.”

He sounds so bitter about being put on the defensive that you have to laugh. “Fine, you don’t want to have lunch. I’m not going to turn up and fucking kidnap you from your precious clique to force food down your throat. It was just an offer.”

“I didn’t say no!” 

“Too late, I’m wounded now, the offer’s off the table.”

“You’re fucking ridiculous.” He sighs audibly.

“Further insults are not helping your case. Maybe I’ll just cancel the whole trip, knowing now that I’m making you feel so unsafe in what is so clearly your territory, a massive gathering of sweaty gamer dudes and otakus and cosplayers on day passes from their parents’ basements. I’d stick out like a sore thumb with my deodorant and clean socks every day--”

“Stop before you embarrass yourself any further.”

“Embarrath _mythelf_?” When in doubt, fall back on making fun of his lisp. That was always a winner.

“Look, decide if you’re more interested in getting some food or insulting me. If you can stop the second one for two goddamn seconds maybe we can make a plan for the first one. I’ve got plans I can’t break on Friday but other than that I’m flexible.”

You reached a compromise. You’d meet him on Thursday at the same time he was meeting everyone else--apparently he did in fact have a clique, or at least a group of long-time friends who picked a con or two every year to meet at--and if the two of you were still interested, you’d figure something out. You’re even staying at the same hotel, a coincidence that makes things much more convenient.

Or at least it had at the time. Now it meant you staring glumly at your suitcase with less than eighteen hours left before you’re supposed to be on the road, alone but for your saltwater tank and the memory of your best friend giggling on the phone when you lamented your difficulty to her. She always looked perfectly pulled together and you sometimes hated her for the effortlessness of it. You spent a considerable portion of your fashion-formative years wearing uniforms. You were unprepared for this.

“Weren’t you the one saying they’d be wearing flood pants and tube socks unironically so even if you didn’t try you’d still look better than them?” 

You sighed and flopped back into the single plush chair in your living room, watching the pink spotted watchman gobies you got Fef for her birthday last year drift around the tank. “I’m getting a feeling I might’ve underestimated what I’m involving myself in here, is all. Toronto’s a huge city and people know they’re goin to get the chance to meet the celebrities they usually sit at home an pant over so chances are they’re goin to bring their A game, you know?”

“Eridan.” Her voice had that tone it takes when she’s particularly exasperated with you, low and breathy but more in a disappointed kind of way than a sexy one. Still a little sexy, though. “This is a comic convention.”

“More of a general fan interest convention. Toronto’s got its own major comic convention but it’s--”

“NOT the point. Listen to me. If you’re going to use this clothes fixation as another excuse why you’re going to go all the way to Toronto and come back exactly as vicious and negative and accusatory as you left then save the money and don’t bother going. Otherwise, just put on one of your eight hundred band shirts, a scarf, and try to have a good time.” You could just see the angle of her elbow as her hand came to rest on her hip while she scolded you.

“What if the scarf covers the important part of the shirt, though, wouldn’t that defeat the purp--”

“Eridan, I swear to God.”

“Sorry, Fef. Just tryin to lighten the mood a little. It’s sounding like you’re more invested in this entire thing than I am.” That wasn’t entirely untrue, but it was hard to be confronted with it nonetheless. “I don’t do this kind of thing very often. Or ever. So forgive me for being a little fucking nervous.”

“No. Not this time, mister. Suck it up. Come back with a vibranium shield or on one!” And just like that she hung up on you in your hour of greatest need. Not that you’d tell her she’s wrong or anything but you were trying to reach out for some support and this is what you got for it. Well, fine. Just for that, a cardboard Captain America shield was now all you were going to bring her back.

And maybe a Sailor Moon compact if you could find one. But that was really it.


	2. Chapter 2

The room is way, way nicer than you expected, but truth be told you could do without the fuzzy blanket on the end of your bed. You know it’s supposed to be a boutique style hotel so of course things are going to be a bit hipper and nicer than your standard all polyester nightmare hotel bed linens but… fuzzy? Really? It does nothing for the otherwise pleasingly nautical atmosphere. It’s too cold yet for anyone to have boats on the water but the view from your room is still better than you could have asked for. Waiting as long as you did to book your room means you missed out on the con deals but you were able to snag a different room and yeah, it was more expensive but it’s got a fireplace. Fucking posh. Hard to complain about that. 

Besides which, you have other things on your mind right now. You drop your bags in your room and grab a quick post-road shower before texting Fef to let her know you made it safe. Even the bathroom is gorgeous but then you tend to judge hotels based on how nice the bathrooms are. Anybody can make a bedroom look hospitable to somebody who’s looking for a place to sleep but making a bathroom look like it’s worth what you probably paid for the room takes a special kind of touch. Even if they are a chain hotel, you have to hand it to the place and say they did all right with this one.

Fef’s replied by the time you get out.

You made it! Is he there yet?  


was there ever any doubt a me making it  
wait dont answer that  
and how should i know i havent even left my room yet

Why not?

you know me fef im sittin here paralyzed with vaguely homoerotic fear and insecurity  


Eridan knock it off right now or you are so on your own this weekend, buster!  
Do you think I have nothing better to do than pander to your sarcasm? )-(ONESTLY?

cant blame guy for hopin  
i was takin a shower because i overslept and then spent a thousand years in my car  
any procrastinatory benefits to that are purely coincidental  
im heading down now  
just wanted to check in  


It was not a thousand years but I guess that makes sense.  
Now go down there and get some face time in before all his little friends show up.  
GO!!!!!!!!

You try not to think too hard about any hidden meaning to the number of exclamation points on her last message, electing instead to not reply at all and simply act. That’s what she’s trying to tell you do to after all. Put yourself out there. Less Hamlet, more Laertes. Except they both end up dead so maybe not that exact comparison. 

You tug on a shirt and wrap a scarf around your neck with Feferi’s teasing echoing in your mind, check your pocket for your room key, and leave your suite. The hallway is quiet and you’re the only one on the elevator, which isn’t really what you were expecting. Maybe all the nerds are hiding in their rooms or haven’t gotten their parents to drop them off yet. You’re glad for the peacefulness of the hotel right now, though. It’s helping to calm your nerves.

What will also help is a drink, so you make your way to the hotel bar and take up a position on one of the end stools. You can see the entire lobby from there without having to sit out in the open and look like you’re waiting for someone. Other attendees seem to be arriving; you assume that’s who they are, at least, with their long Fourth Doctor scarves, their t-shirts bearing internet memes (one of them is wearing a shirt that says, “Your shirt was funnier when I saw it on tumblr,” and the irony nearly ends you), and general level of paraphernalia on their suitcases. The people watching would be interesting if it weren’t for the fact that virtually none of them arrive alone. You start to wonder if maybe cons aren’t a thing people do alone. Nobody warned you about that.

Your concerns are alleviated somewhat, though, when a single teenager in a Batman t-shirt perches on one of the lobby’s plush chairs. He’s sitting on the very edge of the thing and looking around as though someone’s going to attack him and he wants to be able to get the first swing in. Not frightened, just hostile. It’s weird to see after watching all the happy faces and hugs and whatnot that have been taking place for the last hour or so.

It only takes a couple of minutes before you realize why. A cheap-looking balsa wood glider arcs down from the balcony above and connects perfectly with the back of his head. “It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s Karkat!” A feminine voice rings through the lobby and the Batman guy is out of his chair and targeting his glare at what you have to assume is its owner.

“That’s not Batman, that’s Superman, Jade, oh my god. Get down here and quit shouting, you’re going to embarrass yourselves.” Even as you’re watching, Batman--or, you assume, Karkat--is getting redder and redder, so it’s not likely that his assailants are the ones being embarrassed, but you do see two people--also clearly teenagers--with matching black hair and glasses come galloping down the stairs toward him. The guy is in a bright blue Superman t-shirt, thus explaining what the hell just happened, and when he reaches Karkat he grabs him for a very tight hug. The girl is wearing Wonder Woman and has gone to retrieve the plane.

“Put me down, jesus, John, people are going to stare!”

“So what? I missed you, Karkat!” John defiantly lifts Karkat a little higher in the hug before setting him back down. The drama is somehow that much more interesting as you learn people’s names. Karkat immediately takes a big step back away from the pair of them toward his chair. It’s a strategically poor decision, however, as Wonder Woman, who must be Jade, zips in behind him and steals the chair, trapping him between the two of them.

“Nobody else here yet?” she chirps, turning sideways so her knees are on the arm of the chair and her feet hang free. You stir your drink a little and turn on your stool to watch them. They’re noisy and a little obnoxious, the perfect distraction.

“No, somehow you two managed to make it before everyone who lives closer. What time did your flight get here anyway?” Karkat’s earlier hostility seems to have melted in an instant and he just moves to the other arm of the chair. Jade sits up a little, giving him room to perch one leg there, then leans back against him. 

“Noon. It was great! Have you been to your room yet? They’re really nice.” John drops unceremoniously to the floor, crossing his legs and keeping his back to the hotel’s main entrance so he can look at the other two.

“Yeah but only long enough to dump my stuff. I didn’t see anything else in there so Sollux must not be here yet.” Your attention perks up at the mention of that name. These are Sol’s friends. “Any sign of Rose in your room, Jade?”

“No, but they were going to be the last ones in anyway. I think their flight only got in half an hour ago or so so I figure we’ll probably end up seeing them before they even check in.” She kicks her legs a little. “Is that everybody?”

Karkat’s counting on his fingers. “You, me, you, Rose, Dave, Sollux, Aradia since I’m assuming she’s still coming with Sollux, Vriska’s still in Moscow, Terezi couldn’t afford this round, and Nepeta’s in the middle of her internship so she couldn’t get away. Oh, and Tavros’s brother’s wedding is this weekend, he’s standing up for him.”

You miss whatever is said next because your ears stop working for a long moment. Sollux. These are his friends? But they’re all half a decade younger than you and that’s being generous. They’re definitely no older than the first year of university, if that. Of course, it’s entirely possible someone with social skills like Sol’s would have trouble making friends in his own peer group. Being caustic, evasive, and condescending to pretty much everyone had a way of driving all but the most dedicated or naive away.

You stop that train of thought dead in its tracks because otherwise you’ll have to examine your own limited social circle and redirect your attention to the trio.

“It happens. This is still a pretty good turnout for the time of year assuming everybody actually shows up. The summer’ll be better.” Karkat leans against the edge of the chair’s back and crosses his arms over his chest. “That being said, everybody better fucking show up.”

“Or what?” A feminine voice carries across the lobby and the heads of the other three turn toward the entrance. You find yourself unable to believe what you’re seeing. Two people are walking toward the trio. One is a girl, slim and neat with a blonde bob and black and purple Catwoman t-shirt. You’re sensing a trend but the guy walking with her either missed the memo or decided to take things up a notch because where everyone else is wearing t-shirts, he’s. Well.

“Strider, what the FU--” Karkat leaps up and starts to holler at the approaching pair but John reaches forward and slams a hand over his mouth as the inevitable expletive starts to echo off the bare surfaces around them. You can’t really blame Karkat, though. Strider has opted to forgo the t-shirt in favor of full cosplay. 

Of Starfire. Complete with orange makeup and bodysuit. At least you assume it's a bodysuit. The longer you look the more you find yourself hoping it's a bodysuit, or else at the very least you pity the cabin crew on whatever flight he took wearing all that.

Somehow the girl with him is completely unfazed by the outrageous costume and massive red wig her companion is sporting but nobody else is reacting that casually. “Dave, what are you wearing? You were supposed to be Martian Manhunter. I sent you the t-shirt myself so don’t tell me you didn’t get it.” Jade’s hands are on her hips and while it sounds like she’s trying to scold him, the effect is more one of long suffering realization.

“Nah, it’s in my bag. You guys just don’t appreciate the levels of irony going on here. We don’t need to wear matching t-shirts to recognize each other anymore.” Strider--Dave--whoever he is primps his hair a little.

“No, but it’s a fuc--ow. Screw you, John,” Karkat growls, taking an elbow to the ribs to prevent him cursing. “It’s a tradition. That’s the point of the thing. It’s what we do.” He slumps back away from the rest of them and Jade loops an arm around his shoulder, patting him consolingly.

“I’m still keeping with the tradition. I’m repping a DC alien, but I couldn’t just go with who I was assigned. If you would’ve just given me Flash like I wanted then all this could’ve been avoided,” Dave replies with a shrug.

“Or at the very least his bodysuit would go farther toward covering you up. I know at least one cab driver who would have appreciated that small difference more than words can say.” You jog your memory for a moment to bring up the list from earlier and figure this must be Rose from the flight that was getting in last. If they’re supposed to be the last ones to arrive, though, where is Sollux? Is it possible he changed his mind after all? You can kind of sympathize with him on that; if you were facing the prospect of hanging out with all these kids for an entire weekend in your hometown, you might waffle a little too, no matter how good your friendships were. If you were travelling it’d be different but when you could just as easily hole up in your own apartment and not have to deal with the bickering and apparent exhibitionist streak or streaks, well, you just might.

Your wool gathering causes you to miss another chunk of their conversation. By the time you’re back to reality, they’re all standing. “Anybody heard from him? Maybe he’s just going to spend the evening with Aradia instead of coming here?” Jade seems to be something of a social director for the group if her input so far is any indication.

“He said he was going to meet us here. He’s even staying here this weekend. His dads were willing to put him up; they probably want a weekend alone. Even if he changes his mind, he's already paid for his half of the room.” Karkat’s scrolling through his phone now looking for something but there’s a considerable note of concern in his voice. On a whim you dig your phone out and check it. A reply from Feferi which you’ll look at later but nothing from Sol. A part of you had been hoping maybe he’d contacted you and not them. It’s a petty thing to hope for but you’re still a little disappointed to see there’s nothing there.

“Well, he knows where to find us. We should go upstairs!” John says. “The rooms are awesome and Dave needs to put some real clothes on.” He leans forward and darts an arm out like he’s going to snatch Dave’s wig off but the other boy leans back and shakes his head.

“You need better moves that than, Egbert. Besides, this thing has more pins in it than Elliot Spencer.” Dave turns and grabs the handle on his suitcase but doesn’t move yet. You can’t tell if he’s waiting for the others or just trying to see who got his reference. You certainly have no idea what he’s talking about. “Gonna be twice as hard to get rid of, too. We’re talking at least twelve sequels and all of them with the original actor. None of this shitty remake stuff, unless I decide to do it intentionally shitty, but you’ll never know until we get there and even then it might be as far over your head as this costume is now.”

“Oh my god someone please shut him up.”

All five heads turn--six if you count your own--toward the side of the lobby. Apparently there’s another entrance over there. Either that or a skinny guy in a Flash t-shirt lived up to the hero whose shirt he has on and got past everyone, but you’re leaning toward the first option. Regardless, he’s smirking and his hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans, forcing his shoulders to curl in a little. It’s like he’s trying to make himself both the obvious center of attention and invisible at the same time.

He’s also exactly as young looking as the rest of them and you know who he is before they even greet him because you recognize his voice. 

“About time, Captor. You live here, you could’ve gotten here any time, and yet somehow we still end up waiting for you?” Karkat’s grumbling but you can see the way he’s relaxing already. You wish you could feel that easy but instead you slam back the rest of your drink.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it. Or I’ve been watching the entire time and wanted to make you squirm so you ended up waiting for me. One of the two. We may never know which.” Sollux closes the distance between himself and the rest of the group. “Strider, what the fuck.”

“What the fuck yourself. I wanted to be Flash.” Dave pokes at Sollux’s shirt and the other boy swats his hand away.

“You’re going to get your shitty orange makeup all over it. Obviously, the Flash has to go to the fastest person to respond to the email. You missed out because you were too slow.” Sollux’s voice is smug as he replies. “I wouldn’t worry about it, though, you’re still plenty… flashy.”

The entire group groans. “You’re spending way too much time with Aradia,” Rose comments, then gives him a knowing grin. “Of course, that might all change after this weekend. Where is this mystery internet acquaintance?”

“Dunno,” Sol replies, “but it’s not like anybody’s just going to walk up to you guys and introduce themselves considering I bet you’ve been acting like complete assholes until now.”

“We weren’t complete assholes till you got here. _Now_ we’re complete!” You know virtually nothing about any of them but you’re already sure with lines like that that John is the biggest dork you have ever observed in the wild.

“Oh, OK, that’s so much better, John, thanks. Doesn’t matter anyway.” You frown a little as Sol speaks. Doesn’t matter? You’re pretty damn sure it does matter, but you also aren’t going to go approach him right now. Not in the middle of the lobby with all his friends around. His extremely young looking friends. That’d just be the height of awkwardness no matter what you discussed in advance.

They start to gather their things and talk about who is in what room and you pull your phone out to shoot him a quick email; he hadn’t even trusted you enough to give you his phone number. _I’m in the bar. Your friends are drippin with weird and I didn’t want to get any on me_.

Sollux lingers just behind the others as they troop toward the elevator and you see him pull his phone out at check it, then glance around the lobby like he’s just been told there’s a sniper trained on him. You lift one hand when he looks toward the bar and wave cautiously until he spots you.

His jaw drops, then his face turns unreadable behind his bicolored glasses. You watch him and start to think he could be kind of attractive in a scrawny, sun-starved kind of way, then crush those thoughts with all your might and consider ordering another drink. He lifts his phone up and shoots you a reply.

_Wow, spying on them and me is definitely not creepy at all. This is a great first impression._

You snort when you read his reply. _Like yours was so great._

 _What was wrong with it?_ He’s definitely scowling at you now, but also stealing glances at the elevators. It’s only a matter of time before his friends notice he’s missing.

 _Only everything. I’m going to be down here for a while so come down later if you want. Go on before the herd notices the weak one is fallin behind and they leave you to get picked off by a lion or something._ You’re feeling particularly smug about that until you get his reply.

_Does that make you the lion?_

You’re not entirely sure if he’s trying to call you creepy again or if he’s flirting. The first prospect makes you feel terrible but the second gives you a shocking round of butterflies in your stomach. When you look up again he’s giving you a small, sly grin like he somehow knows exactly what you’re thinking and that only makes it worse. You have to do something about this.

_Look, go up and deal with your friends and come back down before it’s past your bedtime._ Bringing up the fact that you can see how young he is might not be the best gambit right now but it's not like it's just going to go away. 

It’s his turn to snort but he does finally start toward the elevator. _Whatever. Just because you can’t stay up past the evening news doesn’t mean everyone’s that lame._ So he noticed the glaring age difference, too. He can’t think you’re that old, though, can he? You start to send him a reply but he’s gone from your line of sight and somehow sending him another message after that feels desperate to you.

You do order another drink, though, and sit back on your stool to wait. That could’ve gone better--you could’ve actually spoken words to him, for example--but it could’ve gone way worse, especially if you _had_ spoken actual words to him. He’ll come down. You’re almost sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, thank you all for your comments and kudos, I never expected this. WOW. Updates after this will be a little slower since I had most of chapter one and two completed but everything else going forward will be new stuff, but the support even after one chapter has been unreal. THANK YOU.


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